


Be Mine

by Carenejeans



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Humor, M/M, Valentine's Day, bar stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 19:36:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carenejeans/pseuds/Carenejeans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Did you know the phrase "wearing your heart on your sleeve" originated in Scotland?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short fic written for Valentine's Day. A little bit slashy.

"The practice of wearing one's heart on one's sleeve was invented by the Scots," Methos said, idly flipping a newspaper across the table. "Why am I not surprised."

 

Joe snorted and poured another shot for himself. He raised the bottle inquiringly towards Duncan.

 

Duncan nodded and then raised an eyebrow at Methos. "You believe everything you read in the paper?"

 

Richie was engrossed in the newspaper, which Duncan suddenly noticed was awash in pink. "Listen, Mac." His finger traced the lines as he read. "'In 17th century Scotland, Valentine's day was often marked by a festival. The high point was a ritual in which single men and women drew other's names in from a hat.'"

 

"That goes back farther than 17th century Scotland," Duncan said, somewhat irritably.

 

"'The young men and women would sometimes wear the names of their Valentines on their sleeves,'" Richie read.

 

Methos raised his beer as if it were a professor's pointer. Joe smiled. Duncan scowled.

 

Richie read on. "'This meant people could end up with two Valentines.'"

 

"Sounds like a recipe for disaster," Joe said. They all looked at Duncan. He shrugged.

 

Richie continued reading. "'But the men were obliged to honor the ladies' choices.' Huh," he added by way of editorial.

 

"Very... chivalrous," Methos said dryly.

 

"It was just a game," Duncan said, turning his whiskey glass between his fingers moodily for a moment, then sliding it towards Joe for a refill.

 

Joe didn't comment. Duncan knocked back the contents of the glass in one gulp.

 

"Thought you were supposed to savor that slowly," Methos remarked casually. Duncan glared at him, then at the other two, who were looking at him curiously.

 

"What?"

 

"Aren't you going to tell us about it?" Richie said rashly. Joe winced.

 

"It was a long time ago, and besides, the wench is dead," Methos murmured.

 

"Aye, and besides that, it's none of your business."

 

"So was it a disaster, like Joe said?" Richie was owl-eyed with beer, but looked honestly curious, and missed the danger signals sparking from Duncan's eyes under his lowering brows.

 

Duncan didn't answer for a moment. The he looked up and smiled. Joe shook his head, looking as if he, for one, wasn't missing any sparks and was only waiting for the Scot to explode.

 

"Wanna see how it works out? I'll give you a demonstration."

 

"There aren't any girls here," Richie protested. Methos snickered, then wiped his face of amusement as Duncan turned his glower on him. "Methos can be a girl," Duncan said.

 

Methos's eyelashes fluttered. "Oh, Duncan" he sighed, almost too softly to hear. Richie's eyes widened, and this time Joe snickered.

 

"And Joe can be the other girl," Duncan added.

 

Joe just smiled.

 

Duncan started tearing little scraps from the edge of the newspaper. "Give me a pen--" he stopped as he felt the presence of a new immortal close by. Methos and Richie also tensed, and their heads swiveled towards the door. A split second later, Joe's eyes followed theirs.

 

All four men relaxed as Amanda sashayed through the doorway and wended her way to their table.

 

"Here comes a _real girl,_" Richie said, emphasizing the last two words with somewhat inebriated satisfaction.

 

"What's up?" Amanda pulled up a chair between Joe and Duncan and snuggling up to Duncan possessively. Joe looked amused, Richie looked envious, and Methos's eyes glinted with some emotion that flashed briefly. Duncan, his own eyes unaccountably drawn to Methos's, caught it before it was gone.

 

"We're choosing Valentines, the old-fashioned Scottish way," Methos said, leaning back casually and sipping from his beer.

 

Amanda shuddered. "_There's_ a practice that should have died out in antiquity." She looked around the table, as if suddenly perplexed by all the masculine faces. "Especially when the odds are so heavily stacked," she added.

 

"Methos and Joe are girls," Richie said.

 

Amanda raised her eyebrows.

 

"For the purposes of this experiment," Joe said quickly.

 

Amanda shot Duncan a look. He returned her gaze blandly and placed two piles of out tiny slips of paper on the table. "This pile is the girls, and this pile is the boys," he said. "Amanda will sit this one out, because she's an old matron," he said, smiling at the face Amanda made at that. "Pick a name from the pile of the -- currently -- opposite sex." He bowed forward and swept a nonexistent hat from his head. "Ladies first."

 

"There's only two names here," protested Joe. "If Methos chooses first, I'm left with the... leftover."

 

"Too bad," Methos said, snapping up the top slip.

 

Joe grunted and picked up the remaining slip. "Gah," he said, and reached for the bottle.

 

Methos, on the other hand, looked like the cat who'd scored the cream.

 

Learning from Methos's example, Richie quickly took a slip from the "girl's" pile. He blanched. Duncan smiled and picked up the remaining slip.

 

"So, according to the rules," I don't have to keep the -- girl -- I picked, right?" Richie said hopefully.

 

Duncan's lips thinned in something that wasn't quite a smile. "Not very flattering to the lady, but yes."

 

"Oh," Richie said, as if the some of the ramifications of the ritual had suddenly penetrated his skull. "But it's not a lady, it's just Methos." He shoved his Valentine into the middle of the table, "So -- I fold."

 

"Well, I like _that,_" Methos said in a wounded tone. Then he smiled ironically at the Valentine in his own hand and placed it face up on the table. Everyone craned their neck to see.

 

"He got Duncan," Richie grinned.

 

Duncan shrugged, but he felt his face grow warm. He reached for his glass.

 

"My card trumps yours, so you're off the hook," Methos told Richie. "And you're out of a date."

 

Richie frowned at that. This game was more complicated than he'd thought.

 

"No, he isn't," said Joe, batting his eyes and placing his own Valentine on the table. "Richie owes me a box of candy, a candelight dinner and --"

 

"No, no, no. No _way_ \-- this little game is over, you're turning back into a guy and I'm outta here." He stood up to as if to leave, stood uncertainly and none too steadily for a moment, then collapsed back into his chair. "As soon as I can walk, I'm outta here," he amended.

 

Amanda was perched on the edge of her chair, her chin cupped in one hand. She reached out and turned over Duncan's Valentine. She looked up at him with sudden comprehension and pity at Duncan, who with an effort tried to pull his thoughts back to the present.

 

The others went still as they too picked up on Duncan's quiet sadness. "What was her name?" Amanda said softly. "The one you chose but who chose another?"

 

Duncan didn't answer for a moment. The name was just on his lips when he shook himself suddenly and forced a grim smile. "Well, it for damn sure wasn't Joe."

 

The mood broken, they all laughed, though Amanda squeezed Duncan's hand. He crumpled up the scrap of paper and smiled at her crookedly.

 

Methos stood up and shrugged into his coat. "If our little history lesson is over, I'll just be heading off." He fingered his Valentine briefly, then left in on the table. "If you don't mind, I don't think I'll be wearing this on my sleeve." His eyes met Duncan's for a moment, then he spun on his heel and stalked out of the bar. Duncan watched him go.

 

"What's eating him?" Richie said.

 

Joe shrugged and started to pick up their empty glasses. Amanda rose to help, sweeping the discarded Valentines into a pile. As she reached for the slip of paper with Duncan's name on it, Duncan covered it with his hand, not meeting her eyes. Amanda poked him with an elbow to get his attention and jerked her head slightly toward the door -- so slightly Duncan wasn't sure he'd actually seen it, and then briskly continued clearing the table.

 

A moment later, he was standing outside Joe's bar, a tiny scrap of paper tucked inside his sleeve, watching Methos's shadowy figure disappear around the corner. Smiling a little ruefully, he turned and followed.

 

_-End-_


End file.
